Gone
by Scared of Pennies
Summary: This was serious. This wasn’t something Dean could fix with a few stitches and some Tylenol. Dean couldn’t help his brother and that was the thing tearing him up. Warning: Strong Language
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Okay so I don't have a beta and I haven't really checked through this, I just kind of sat down and wrote it so I apologise for any mistakes (there will be many). This plot-bunny just wouldn't leave me alone, it was stalking me so I had to sit down and write it. It's a sort of Wee!chester fic. **

**Sam is 14 and Dean is 18**

**Tell me what you think!**

Sam shuddered as he weakly turned his head away from the reeking toilet and shakily reached up to flush it from his spot in between the sink and the lavatory. The churning motion of the water made his stomach lurch again and he looked away, closing his eyes and resting his aching head back against the cool tiles.

Sam Winchester felt well and truly miserable.

What made things worse was knowing he'd have to get up and be ready to go on a hunt soon with Dean and his father. That was if he could go ten minutes without puking his guts up.

Sighing shakily, he swallowed and grimaced at the sour taste in his mouth and pulled himself up onto shaking legs. He turned on the taps and bent his head down into the sink and gulped a few mouthfuls of cool water, rinsing out his mouth and drawing away.

His head was pounding and his stomach was still churning restlessly. He just wanted to curl up and sleep for a year.

Shuffling out of the bathroom and scrubbing a hand blearily over his eyes he looked over the top of the stairs and frowned when he saw his Dad already shoving weapons into a holdall.

"Dad?" He called out, cursing the slight quiver in his voice.

John looked up from his bag, turning to the source of the noise and staring up at his son who was leaning over the banisters looking extremely pale and a sheen of sweat glazed his young features.

"How're you feeling?" He asked gruffly as he tucked a pistol into his jeans and zipped up the bag.

"I'm fine." Sam lied. He knew his Dad wasn't a sympathetic type and if Sam told him he felt like shit it would just be another sign of weakness.

"What's going on? I thought we weren't leaving 'til later? I'm not ready, Dean's not ready." Sam said trying to ignore the steady throb in his temples.

Upon hearing his name Dean's head popped out from the living room door and he walked into the hall.

"What's going on?" Dean asked spotting John's already packed bag and Sam hovering over the banisters looking rather worse for wear.

"Sam, you're sitting out this hunt and Dean's gonna stay here with you."

"What?" Sam and Dean immediately asked in unison.

"Sam, you're still sick you can't come on this hunt and Dean you're staying here and watching your brother." John said matter of factly and picking up the holdall.

"Dad, I'm fine and anyway I'm 14 I don't need a babysitter!" Sam protested, descending the stairs.

"Yeah and you said you'd need our help on this one. You can't go by yourself. I can go with you." Dean added as John let out a tired sigh of frustration and ran a hand through his hair.

"No, that is my final answer. Sam you're off your game so you'll just be a liability and Dean you need to stay here with your brother. I don't want to hear another word about it." He said firmly and Dean lowered his gaze with a resigned sigh whilst Sammy bit back a retort.

"I'll be back in a few days maybe more. I've left money for food on the counter and no skipping school Monday." He said looking pointedly at Dean who rolled his eyes. He picked up the bag and walked out the house closing the door behind him with a slam.

Dean sighed audibly and looked up at Sam who was hovering at the foot of the stairs.

"Thanks freak face now I have to stay here with you all weekend." Dean said with a trace of a smirk as he walked into the living room and collapsed down onto the couch. Sam followed him in, forehead crinkled as he tried to breathe through the thumping in his head.

"I don't want you to be here either fugly." Sam retorted quickly as he sat down in the armchair.

"Charming Sammy, I give up my weekend to play nursemaid for my poor sick little brother and this is thanks I get?" Dean exclaimed in mock-hurt.

"Dean you were just saying…what…never mind," he said resignedly.

"I finally outsmarted the smartass Sammy." Dean grinned triumphantly and Sam rolled his eyes.

"No I just give up trying to sort through the string of crap that comes out of your mouth…and it's _Sam._" Sam added and swallowed hard, his scratchy throat aching.

"Hush now vomit boy, TV time for Dean." Dean said dismissively holding up a hand to silence Sam who snorted derisively.

"You are such a freak."

Sam tried to concentrate on the TV screen but Dean was flicking through channels so fast it made him feel nauseous so he closed his eyes and rested his aching head against the back of the chair eventually drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

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When Sam awoke he was hit immediately by the agonizing throbbing in his head and as he tried to lift his head he winced as pain flared in his neck. He must have slept on it funny.

Groaning he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He felt like shit. He looked down at himself and was surprised to find himself covered with a blanket. It must have been Dean. Even with the added warmth of the blanket he found himself shivering.

He heaved himself shakily to his feet and stumbled as the room spun violently. Bile crept up his throat and he swallowed it with a grimace as he tried to steady himself holding onto the wall.

He'd had stomach flu before and it had never felt like this.

Taking deep, shuddering breaths he finally managed to collect himself and let out a weak chuckle. He was such a girl.

He shuffled across the hallway, socked feet whispering against the wooden floor as he heard Dean's low humming of a Metallica song resonating from the kitchen.

Dean looked up from his seat at the kitchen table where he was cleaning his Glock and frowned when he saw Sam's disheveled appearance.

"You look like hell." He remarked as Sam poured himself a glass of water.

"Thanks. I love you too Dean." Sam replied voice dripping with sarcasm as he took tentative sips of the cool water.

Dean studied his brother marking his pallid complexion, the sweat on his forehead and the grimace on his face. He didn't look good.

"How're you feeling?" He asked as Sam collapsed into a chair and cradled his head in his hands.

"Head hurts." He mumbled. Dean frowned and reached out a hand which Sam swatted away in surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"Feeling your head seeing if you have a fever." Dean said reaching out again and laying a palm flat on his forehead before pulling it away in surprise.

"Jeez Sammy you're burning up." He said as Sam merely grunted in response, rubbing his sore neck.

"Do we…have any Tylenol?" Sam asked quietly and Dean paused, thinking.

"Um…oh crap I think Dad took the last lot with him. I can run out and get you some if you want?" Dean offered as Sam shook his head and immediately regretted it, pain flaring and his stomach churning in response.

"Nah, it's okay." Sam said. It was weird Dean being so attentive but then again although he may be an ass at time he always looked out for Sam when he was sick or hurt, more than Dad did.

"I think I might just go to bed." Sam mumbled, getting unsteadily to his feet.

"Okay sick boy, I'll wake you up later and see if you want any food." He said turning back to his gun. Sam walked back out of the room and began the long climb up the stairs to his bed.

He wanted to just curl up and sleep and cry. His head and neck were hurting so badly but he knew Dean would think he was a wuss. This was just a stomach bug. He needed to suck it up like Dad always told him to.

--------------------------

Dean opened the door slowly and peered inside the dark room. Sam was hidden under a bundle of covers and sprawled across the bed. Sam wasn't someone who took up a small part of the bed, he had to cover every inch of it, having shared a bed with Sam many times Dean knew this all to well.

He flicked on the lights and tiptoed over the piles of junk strewn around his side of the room, careful not to disturb his sleeping brother as he looked for his cell phone.

Pulling out the drawer in his nightstand he rifled through the crap in there and sighed sitting on the bed. Where was his god-damned phone?

As if on cue he heard the muffled ringing of his phone and he grinned listening and trying to locate the sound of the ringing. He followed the sound and it led him to under his bed. Dropping down flat onto his stomach he reached for the phone and grabbed it triumphantly.

Glancing at the caller ID he flipped it open.

"Hello."

"Hey Dean it's Jack, just thought I'd let you know there's a party at Stacie's tonight. Big one, gonna be lots of chicks."

Dean grinned. Stacie was _hot._ Then he heard Sam moan slightly in his sleep and he swallowed hard.

"It sounds good man but I promised my Dad I'd stay home with my brother, he's sick." Dean explained regretfully. Why did Stacie have to have a party _now?_ Why did Sam have to be sick _now?_

"Dude that sucks, can't you leave him for a few hours?" He asked and Dean sighed.

"Sorry man I can't. Tell me about it tomorrow." Dean said reluctantly.

"Okay man if you're sure…if you change your mind her house is on Beechwood Ave."

"Okay see ya." He said hanging up the phone and sighing. Tucking the phone safely into his pocket he almost leapt out of his skin when Sam spoke.

"Who was that?" He asked croakily and Dean, getting over his initial shock, felt a pang of guilt upon waking his brother.

"Jack, sorry if I woke you." He said watching as Sam leant back against the wall, closing his eyes and rubbing his neck.

"You don't have to stay here Dean, you can go out." Sam said feeling guilty that he was keeping his brother in the house. It wasn't often that Dean was able to go out and hang out with friends.

"I thought you were sleeping and don't worry about it, it's fine. I don't really feel like going out anyway." Dean lied.

Sam pulled the covers tighter around himself in an effort to quell the shivers raging through him and tried to ignore his stomach as it leapt.

"Dean seriously it's fine, I don't feel that bad anymore and I'm probably just gonna sleep the whole night anyway." Sam said as he swallowed hard, praying his stomach would just settle down.

Dean paused thinking it over. Sam had a point, he'd just be sleeping and Dean really wanted to go…

"I don't know…"He said hesitantly.

"Dean just go." He said and Dean let a smile creep across his face.

"Fine but only because I don't think I can face looking at your ugly face for much longer." He said with a grin

Sam smiled despite his aching head and threw a pillow which hit Dean squarely in the face.

"Hey, no damage to this face!" Dean protested as he quickly changed his shirt and Sam laughed weakly.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right…wouldn't want to make it any worse than it already is." Sam replied with a smirk and Dean laughed.

"I suppose I left myself open for that one." Dean said picking up his jacket.

"Yup." Sam said trying to keep a grimace of his face as his stomach churned viciously again and shivered.

"Okay, I'm gonna go…I wont be too late and there's food in the fridge if you get hungry. The salt lines are around the house and Dad put some extra wards up before he left. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He said and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Scratch that just…don't give Dad a reason to kick my ass for leaving you." He said.

"Yes _mom._" Sam said rolling his eyes.

"Shutup Bitch."

"Jerk" Sam replied.

"See you later." Dean said walking out the room and Sam raised a hand in goodbye. Listening carefully and hearing the front door close Sam finally let out a whimper and buried his head in his pillow. His head was killing him. It had never been this bad before.

His stomach lurched and a familiar feeling raced up his throat as spit began to pool in his mouth. Oh shit…

Sam leapt from the bed and dashed to the bathroom, dropping to his knees just in time as vomit rushed up his throat in a burning wave and he expelled the contents of his stomach. His eyes tearing, head pounding and neck aching he coughed and dry-heaved.

Spitting into the toilet he gripped the side of the sink for support as he tried to stay upright, his stomach still rebelling even though it was now empty.

Part of him had wanted to make Dean stay with him but he knew his brother needed to go out, it wasn't fair the way Dad had made Dean his right-hand man, calling on him for everything.

Coughing again harshly, tears rolled down his flushed cheeks and he closed his eyes against the pain.

A wave of dizziness washed over him and he was really starting to regret telling Dean to go…

**A/N Yay for Sick!Sam aanyway tell me what you thought! All reviews appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N **Thanks for the amazing reviews guys! You really make it easier to carry on writing. Someone pointed out to me that this was similar to the fic 'Ruptured' by Faye Dartmouth which I haven't actually read so all similarities were unintentional, however I have now read it and it's a great fic so I guess I should be flattered. Anyway this fic definitely takes a different direction. So, hope you enjoy! Tell me what you think**

**Disclaimer: Kripke owns all, nothing for me..**

Sam tried to blink back the hot tears that were coursing down his cheeks as his head pounded relentlessly. He had never had a headache this bad and his neck was also vying for his attention, throbbing with each movement.

Burying his face into his pillow and letting out a small, miserable sob he swallowed hard despite his aching throat. He had closed all the curtains and turned off all the lights after they had irritated his eyes and only made his headache worse and now he was lying in the dark desperately trying to sleep to escape the pain in his head.

He wished he hadn't told Dean to go.

Something really didn't feel right. He had tried to drink some water after being sick only to puke it up again five minutes later. He could barely stand.

He knew he was probably being a wuss about the whole thing and his Dad would only use it as another example of him needing to 'suck it up' and 'grow up' but he really didn't feel good. It felt like his head was going to explode and every five seconds he would switch between sweltering hot and freezing cold but the shivers and shudders just made his aching head protest even more.

Glancing up and grimacing at the pain it caused his neck he spotted his cell sitting on the nightstand.

He could call Dean.

Dean would know what to do.

But, Dean was at a party. He had told him to go. He couldn't ring him up complaining about being sick and make him come home. It wasn't fair and Dean would just think he was whining…

But Dean always knew what to do.

Making his fever muddled mind up Sam dialed Dean's number, hoping he could keep control of his stomach at least long enough to make this phone call. Holding the phone to his ear he listened as it continued to ring.

Sam's stomach flip-flopped again and he grimaced.

"Hey, it's Dean. You know the drill."

Sam groaned as the beep sounded in his ear and he considered hanging up…

"Um…hey Dean it's Sam…I…I was just wondering when…when you were coming home. I really…I really don't feel good. I…never mind. I'll see you later." He croaked, hanging up. He didn't want to whine to Dean's answer phone, he didn't want Dean to hear him whining. He was 14. Why was he being such an idiot? He couldn't remember the last time he had cried and now he was crying because he felt sick?

He sighed and closed his eyes, shivering again before he felt his stomach churn viciously…not again.

He tried to get to his feet but his aching limbs didn't want to co-operate. He weakly stood and as he tried to cross the room a wave of dizziness hit him and he stumbled. Desperately trying to regain his bearings but the room was spinning and the unforgiving pain in his head seemed to double.

Suddenly the ground was rushing up to meet him and he hit the floor with a thud, his limbs not even moving to protect himself. His chin hit the floor and teeth sank into tongue and soon warm copper was filling his mouth.

He wretched at the taste and his stomach revolted, wracked by paralyzing dry heaves a small amount of bile rushed up his throat and hit the carpet with a wet splatter.

Moaning he managed to roll away from the puddle.

His mind growing fuzzier as he tried to concentrate he felt his eyelids trying to tug themselves closed and he swallowed, still tasting bile.

His last conscious thoughts were wondering if Dean would get his message, if he would come home to get Sam…then everything went dark.

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Dean pushed his way through the crowd of people with a scowl on his face as the music thudded loudly through the packed house.

He wasn't having any luck with Stacie, she had spent the whole night with some jock loser and Dean wasn't pleased.

I mean sure there were other hot girls here but Stacie was…she was _hot._

"This sucks." He mumbled. He couldn't even drink because he had to drive home and he didn't want to stay out all night, he didn't want to leave Sam alone all night, especially when he was sick.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, wanting to check the time. Flipping it open he saw it was 1:30am and then he noticed the message sign flashing in the corner.

Dialing his voicemail he walked out the back door and into the garden, ignoring the couple making out against the tree to his right and trying to shut out the noise from the house.

_"Um…hey Dean it's Sam…I…I was just wondering when…when you were coming home. I really…I really don't feel good. I…never mind. I'll see you later."_

Dean frowned. This didn't sound like Sammy. The message was…muddled which was very un-Sam and Sam wouldn't have called for nothing. Something was up.

_I really don't feel good_

Sam also wasn't one to complain. The kid would break an arm and hardly say anything about it. Never wanted to 'cause a fuss' Dean blamed this on their Dad. So for Sam to admit he didn't feel good was basically him saying he felt pretty fucking awful.

He never should have left him.

Sighing he closed his phone with a snap and walked back through the house. This party sucked anyway he thought as he walked out the front door, trying to find his car.

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Dean pulled up at the house and killed the rumbling engine. All the lights were off, maybe the kid was sleeping.

Sure the party had sucked but he would be pretty pissed if he had come back and he was sleeping and absolutely fine.

Not that he wanted him to be…unfine, If that was a word.

Shaking himself from his random thoughts he locked the car and opened the front door, stepping into the dark house.

Shoving his keys into his pocket he began to climb the stairs. He knew he'd have to wash these clothes because even he could smell the smoke and drink on them and his dad would ask questions.

He came to their bedroom door and he opened it quietly, not wanting to wake his brother if he was sleeping.

Pushing it open he stepped inside and he could immediately smell the sour odour of puke. Nice.

He wrinkled his nose and frowned when he found Sam's bed empty, the sheets twisted and rumpled. Frowning he walked across. All the lights were off in the house, where was Sam?

Peering over his stomach wrenched and it felt like his breath had been stolen from him as he saw his brother.

Sprawled across the floor on the other side of the bed, a small puddle of puke next to him and he was lying perfectly still, face ashen. Shit…

Snapping out of it at once he rushed to his brother's side, avoiding the sick he crouched down next to him and turned him over so he was on his back. He tapped his face lightly and even with the brief contact he could feel the shocking heat radiating from him.

"Sam? Sammy, wake up!" He said sharply, shaking his brother gently and feeling sick as his head lolled lifelessly around his shoulders.

"C'mon Sammy, wake up. Open your eyes…Sam!" He yelled, tapping his face again. He heard his brother moan and he shook him lightly again.

"That's it Sammy, open your eyes. Talk to me." He said quickly as his brother groaned and slowly but surely his eyelids eased open revealing glazed eyes.

"De…Dean?" Sam rasped weakly but to Dean it was a beautiful sound.

"Yeah kiddo it's me…what happened? What's wrong?" He asked as his brother closed his eyes again, struggling to re-open them. He couldn't help but notice the grimace of pain on his face.

"Sick." He mumbled.

"I can see that." Dean remarked nodding to the puddle and Sam closed his eyes again.

"Hey, hey…stay awake." He said quickly. He placed a hand on Sam's forehead and quickly pulled it away, wincing at the heat. Something was wrong, really wrong.

"Dean?...Dad I…you're supposed to…school today…" Sam mumbled and instantly Dean felt panic grip at his insides.

He was delirious.

Shit.

"Sam, this fever's too high. I think you're really sick…I need to take you to the hospital." Dean said quickly but Sam already had his eyes closed.

"Shit." He swore under his breath. How was he going to get him to the car? He didn't have to time to fuss about it, he quickly slid his hands under Sam's limp form and picked him up with a grunt. Sam's t-shirt was damp and stuck to his gangly body with sweat.

Staggering slightly under his brother's weight Dean staggered out of the room wondering when he had got so heavy. Whether he liked to admit it or not it looked like Sam was catching up to him height wise.

Struggling down the stairs he tried to quell the rising panic as Sam flopped limply in his arms. This wasn't right. Something was very wrong with his brother.

He hurried as fast as he could under his brother's weight and reached the car.

How was he going to do this…his keys were in his pocket. Sighing, he gently placed Sam on the ground and leant him against the wall of the house where he sat limply, head resting on one shoulder, sweat glistening from his face in the moonlight.

He quickly unlocked the car and pulled open the passenger door before turning back to Sam who hadn't moved from his place. He eased his arm over his shoulder and supported him over to the car before sliding him into the seat. He fumbled with the seatbelt with shaking hands before clicking it into place.

Dad was going to kill him.

And he was going to kill Sam if he wasn't okay.

Firing up the engine he pulled sharply out of the driveway.

Sam was going to be okay. He had to be…


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Sorry for the wait, I've had GCSEs and they are SO not fun. Anyway, the reviews were amazing, seriously thanks so much guys! Some people have been getting pretty close in guessing what is wrong with Sam but this is the one where you find out! Enjoy…**

Dean floored the accelerator, well aware that he was doing over 80 right now but he didn't care. He needed to get Sam to the hospital and fast. He hadn't woken up since he had put him in the car and was moaning softly in his sleep.

Each sound was like a jab at Dean's heart, guilt bubbling away inside of him as he sped faster down the road. He shouldn't have left him. He shouldn't have gone out and left Sam, especially with him being sick. Christ, what had he been thinking?

Taking a sharp left he saw the sign for the hospital and sighed in relief.

"Nearly there Sammy." He said softly even though he wasn't sure if Sam was coherent enough to hear him let alone understand him.

Sharply turning again, tires squealing in complaint he sped into the emergency entrance and braked sharply, the car skidding to a halt.

He fumbled with his seat belt with shaking hands and managed to untangle himself and he scrambled out of the car, legs like jelly as he ran to Sam's side. He pulled the door upon and carefully unfastened Sam's seatbelt.

"C'mon Sam we're here…wake up for me buddy. I'm gonna get you help. Wake up Sammy." He said shaking his brother gently.

Sam merely moaned in response, turning fitfully. Dean swallowed hard, he knew he wasn't going to get Sam up let alone walking. He quickly slid his arms under his brother and scooped him up into his arms, buckling slightly under his weight. God he was getting heavy, catching up in height too. That just wasn't right.

Shit, why was he thinking about stuff like this? He needed to get Sam help. Hurrying as fast as he could under Sam's weight he crossed the ambulance bay. He entered the automatic doors to the ER and was immediately hit by the bustling noises, crying kids, raised voices and the smell of disinfectant.

Staggering slightly he crossed the room looking for a doctor. Looking around desperately finally he spotted a doctor talking to the receptionist.

"Hey, please…can you help my brother. He's got a fever and I can't wake him up." Dean said desperately as the doctor immediately looked down at Sam.

"I need a gurney here!" He yelled and immediately nurses hurried over with a gurney in tow. Dean lowered his brother shakily on to it and brushed his sweaty bangs away from his face.

"I need you to tell me what happened, any other symptoms." The doctor said hurriedly as Dean followed them down the corridor where they were wheeling Sam into trauma. Dean ran a shaking hand through his hair, his eyes not leaving Sam as he lay there limply.

"He uh…He's been sick, puking…he uh…said he had a headache and I found him passed out." Dean said unable to keep the waver from his voice as IVs and wires were immediately hooked up to his brother.

"His temp is 104.3" a nurse said urgently and Dean swallowed hard. That was high…too high.

"Okay Mr…" another nurse said approaching Dean.

"It's Dean." He said softly, still staring numbly at Sam.

"What's your brother's name?" She asked.

"Sammy…Sam. His name's Sam." He replied.

"Okay, is your brother allergic to anything? Any medical conditions we should know about?" She asked as Dean scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Um no, nothing that we know of." He said trying to think if Sam had ever been allerfic to any medicine.

"Okay thanks, you're gonna need to check your brother's details in at the front desk and we need space to work on him. We're gonna do some tests okay and then we'll come and find you when you can see Sam." She said with a reassuring smile that did nothing to comfort Dean as he heard the doctor muttering lowly to the other nurses. He nodded stiffly and took one last look at his brother before reluctantly leaving the room.

He'd fill in the forms for Sam, hand the fake insurance details and everything would be fine. Sam would be fine.

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Several lies and half truths later, Dean had finished the forms and given their fake insurance details which had been handed back with a smile. Dean forced one in return and took his place back on the row of chairs that sat outside the trauma room.

He was going crazy, waiting, not knowing and not being able to look after his brother, not being able to protect him was tearing him apart. He'd always been there for his brother, always able to fix things but this was out of his hands. Sam was hurting and sick and there was nothing he could do but wait and be here.

He sighed shakily and leant back against the wall, closing his eyes. It was nearing 2:30am and Dean hadn't slept. His eyes were itching with tiredness but the worry over Sam was keeping him awake. Sam needed him.

The door to his right swung open and Sam's doctor stepped out, his white coat billowing around him. Dean scrambled to his feet trying to read the middle-aged doctor's face for any sign, whether it was bad news or good news.

"How is he? Is he okay? Can you fix him?" Dean asked rapidly, stumbling over his words in his hurry. The doctor held up a hand to calm the obviously frantic teen in front of him, he could tell this boy cared a great deal about his younger brother.

"We're still running tests. We've taken blood and urine samples, we've run scans and we're going to find out what is wrong. Sam's fever is extremely high so we're working on getting that down and he's dehydrated so we've started several IV lines. Sam's symptoms could point to a number of things so we're going to run down tests to narrow it down. We're going to do a spinal tap." The doctor rattled of gravely and Dean swallowed hard, his throat dry.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Basically we insert a needle into the fluid between the vertebrae in the spinal chord. We can rule out or diagnose illnesses from this test. Although it can be very uncomfortable for the patient it is necessary."

Dean grimaced; they were going to stick a needle into his little brother's spine. If a doctor was admitting it was going to be 'very uncomfortable' this didn't inspire a lot of confidence in Dean. It was going to hurt his brother and Dean couldn't stand to see his brother hurting, as annoying as he was there was nothing worse.

"Can I see him?" Dean asked hopefully and the doctor nodded.

"It's probably better Sam has someone with him during the procedure. Do you have anyone to contact. Your parents?" The doctor asked and Dean paused.

"I tried to call my Dad but he's on a business trip and I can't get through." Dean lied easily. The doctor nodded, accepting his response and led him through the doors to see Sam.

Upon seeing his brother lying there awake Dean rushed to his side, staring down at his pale face and slightly glazed eyes worriedly.

"Sam, Jesus kiddo you sure know how to scare the shit out of me." He said breathlessly and was rewarded by a tired smile from Sam.

"Sorry…I…I'm sorry about your party." Sam said, wincing from the throbbing in his head. Sure the meds they had given him had helped a little but he could still feel the steady throbbing.

"Don't be stupid Sam you're sick…it sucked anyway." Dean said truthfully, studying his brother as he lay there, fighting to stay awake. He looked terrible.

Sam grimaced as his stomach churned violently and suddenly he knew what was about to happen as his stomach lurched into his throat.

"Dean…sick." He managed to gasp out. Catching on, Dean quickly grabbed one of the cardboard bowls placed by the side of the bed and thrust it under Sam's chin just in time to catch the liquid that poured from his throat with each violent heave.

Dean rubbed his brother's back gently and found himself whispering soft words of reassurance in his brother's ears as he strained and dry-heaved, gasping and coughing.

"Come on, breathe through it Sammy…breathe." He said softly, still rubbing his back. Eventually, the heaving stopped and Sam collapsed back against the pillows in exhaustion. Dean moved the bowl away trying not to look at the contents. He hated seeing Sam like this.

"I hate this." Sam whispered brokenly and Dean felt like he was going to break. Blinking quickly he took Sam's hand, an uncommon gesture between the brothers and squeezed it.

"I know it sucks but you'll be okay. We'll get through this okay? Hopefully this will all turn out to be nothing." Dean said trying to reassure his miserable brother.

"Dean, I don't want them to stick a needle in my back. Please…can't we just go home. I feel fine." Sam lied, thinking he would be more convincing if he were able to stop shivering.

Dean frowned skeptically in return but felt a pang of sympathy for his brother. He was scared, hell he was scared for him.

"I'd be more convinced if you hadn't just blown chunks right in front of me. Look they need to do this to find out what's wrong and once they find out what's wrong you can get better and we can get out of this dump." He said with a smile. Sam sighed shakily and nodded mutely in response, regretting it as his head exploded with pain.

The door opened and Dean turned to see a nurse walk into the room with a trolley. Sam caught site of it and looked up at Dean who offered him a weak smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay Sam, I need you to roll onto your side and look at your brother okay?" The nurse said and Sam weakly obeyed, shakily rolling onto his side and looking at Dean who gripped his hand tightly.

"Take deep breaths." The nurse said softly as she swabbed his back with something cold.

Sam tried to keep his breaths even as he sat there waiting for the needle to pierce his skin, Dean's grip was tight and reassuring.

Dean winced as he heard Sam's sharp intake of breath and his face screwed up against the pain as he gripped Dean's hand hard. His hand was going slightly numb but he didn't care. Sam clenched his teeth against the sharp pain and the pressure in his back and closed his eyes.

"All done." The nurse said and Sam let out a long, shaking breath and Dean could detect the slight hitch and the small tear that dribbled from the corner of his eye.

"It's okay Sammy it's finished." Dean said softly as the nurse taped a small bandage over Sam's back and pulled the gown back down over it. Sam sniffed but didn't say anything. Dean watched his brother as he appeared to drift into an exhausted sleep and blinked hard. He hated this.

---------------------

Dean's eyes shot open and he found himself lying with his head resting on the side of Sam's bed. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes he looked at his brother and found him still sleeping, still looking terrible, still sick. Frowning he turned and found the source of noise that had pulled him from his uneasy sleep.

"We have your brother's test results back." The doctor said and Dean was immediately wide awake.

"I'm afraid to say that Sam is extremely sick. He had bacterial meningitis." He said gravely and Dean felt like he had been punched in the stomach. All the air seemed to disappear from the room and he sat there gaping like a fish out of water for a few seconds before managing to stammer out a 'what?'

"Sam's fever has gone up and it's becoming dangerously high. We need to get it down. We're starting him on antibiotics which will hopefully treat the infection."

Dean struggled to process what he was hearing. Meningitis? Fever…shit. This was bad. Sam was sick, really sick. Fuck.

"We're going to move him to the ICU so we can monitor him more closely." The doctor said as Dean nodded absently, staring at his sleeping brother. Sam had to be okay.

"Is…is he going to be alright?" Dean managed to stammer, his stomach churning. He felt like he was going to be sick. The doctor paused, frowning.

"We're going to do everything we can."

Dean stared at him stunned. That wasn't a yes, Dean needed a 'yes you're brother is going to be fine' not some diplomatic half-truth.

This was bad. How could he have gone and left his brother? His father was gone…what was he supposed to do?

---------------------

Things were hazy, everything was fuzzy and he wasn't sure exactly what was going on. All he knew was that strangers kept talking, poking him, prodding him and he couldn't see Dean anywhere. He wanted Dean.

There was a continuous beeping sound coming from his right that was really starting to piss him off and if it were possible he felt even worse than before. He could barely open his eyes.

He saw a pastel figure hovering above him and he tried to speak but his throat was scratchy and it killed just to talk.

"Dean…" was all he managed to croak out and the stranger said something in return that he didn't quite catch before he drifted off back into the blackness.

--------------------------

Dean inserted the quarter into the payphone and dialed the familiar number. He waited, hearing the phone ringing a few times.

He hadn't been allowed to see Sam, saying he could be contagious and they had given him a shot to make sure he didn't develop the illness. He needed to see his brother, he hated this- being kept from him. Sam was sick and alone. He shouldn't be alone.

The ringing stopped.

"This is John Winchester, leave a message and I'll get back to you."

Dean felt anger build inside of him and he slammed the phone down and kicked the wall. Hard.

He sank down to the nearest chair, barely registering the throbbing in his foot and cradled his head in his hand.

This wasn't fair. Sam didn't deserve this.

How could he not have noticed Sam was this sick? This was his fault…He needed to see his brother.

**A/N Sorry if it was a bit slow but I have to set stuff up for what is to come! Tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thanks for the amazing reviews, you keep me writing. So here is another chapter for you, hope you like and tell me what you think! This is totally un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine. If anyone wants to help me out in the beta department I would be very grateful :D**

After finally being told that Sam was no longer contagious and that he was allowed to see Sam, Dean had wasted no time in making his way up to the ICU. Sam's doctor had been keeping him updated, they had started Sam on antibiotics but his fever was showing no sign of relenting.

It had been sheer torture thinking of Sam, hurting, sick and alone and that he could only sit there. He hadn't even been able to see his brother and comfort him, Sam had been alone.

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open and Dean quickly ducked out of them and looked around, trying to find the ICU desk. He needed to find Sam and let him know he wasn't alone in this, that he hadn't abandoned him…

…For a second time. God how could he have left Sam?

He rounded the corner and came to the desk where two nurses were sitting and strode over.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for my brother's room. His name is Sam…Morris." He said struggling to remember the name on the fake insurance. The nurse frowned at him slightly before glancing down at a chart on the desk.

"He's in room 6." She said and Dean nodded before walking purposefully down the corridor.

As he came to the door he stopped, stomach churning. He pushed open the heavy door with clammy hands and stepped inside.

Sam was lying in the bed in the middle suddenly looking incredibly small and young. His face was as white as paper other than the pink flush in his cheeks from the fever. He had several IVs running from each hand and monitors beeped and buzzed from next to the bed.

Sam looked sick, really sick.

Swallowing hard, trying to ignore the painful lump that had taken residence in his throat, Dean walked over to the bed and pulled up the chair next to it.

"Shit Sam." He breathed as he took his brother's limp hand in his.

Sam didn't stir from his sleep. Dean stared at his brother's impassive face and sighed shakily. He needed Sam to be okay. Meningitis, this was serious. This wasn't something Dean could fix with a few stitches, antiseptic and some Tylenol.

Dean couldn't help his brother and that was the thing tearing him up.

He heard a small groan and sharply looked up, his neck clicking.

"Sam?" He asked softly and received another moan in response. Sam shifted his head slightly and frowned before slowly lifting a heavy eyelid.

As Sam opened his eyes he immediately regretted it as the light seemed to burn his retinas. Squinting against the blinding lights he felt his head pounding and his neck throbbing in agony. He swallowed with difficulty, his raw throat protesting with the movement.

"Dean." He whispered.

"I'm here Sammy. You're okay." Dean said softly, smiling at his brother but unable to ignore the glazed look in his eyes and the pain etched across his features.

"Dean…what…what's wrong with me?" Sam asked brokenly, his voice cracking as he tried to ride out the agonizing pain in his head and his back.

Dean swallowed hard, blinking quickly and looking down at his hands uncertainly before meeting his brother's sleepy gaze.

"You're really sick Sam. You have Bacterial Meningitis…but the doctors are gonna make you better. You're gonna be okay" Dean said lowly and Sam looked away, eyes shining.

Dean felt himself floundering. He didn't know what to do. What could he say to make this better? His brother was hurting and he was just sitting here.

"Meningitis?" Sam finally questioned, voice rasping.

Dean bobbed his head in response.

"Typical, you manage to survive werewolves, poltergeists, vampires and even Dad but you get taken out by a negligent cafeteria worker." Dean said with a small smile. The weak chuckle he received in response was like music to his ears.

The pair fell silent again and Sam shifted in his bed, wincing and biting back a gasp from the pain in his back.

"Where is Dad?" Sam questioned, his voice just above a whisper as he looked down at his lap.

"I couldn't get a hold of him." Dean replied suddenly feeling a surge of anger towards his father as Sam looked away, a flicker of hurt passing across his face before disappearing.

He lay back against his pillows, his heavy eyelids begging to be closed but he didn't want to sleep. He wanted Dean.

He hated this. His head was aching relentlessly, his neck hurt, his back felt like it was going to snap and his stomach was still churning with nausea. He felt heat reach his eyes and he blinked quickly but it wouldn't disappear. The burning spread and his vision was clouded as he blinked again and a single tear rolled slowly down his flushed cheeks.

"Dean…can we go home? Please? I'll get better, please…" Sam begged brokenly, several more tears spilling down his cheeks as he turned wet eyes to his brother.

Dean felt his heart lurch as he squeezed Sam's hand and desperately fought to keep everything together.

"Kid…" Dean said, his green eyes darkening with worry. "You're too sick…I'm sorry Sammy."

Sam nodded and swiped the tears away with trembling hands.

"I'm tired…I'm going to sleep now." He whispered shakily, turning away from Dean and closing his eyes.

Dean watched as Sam turned his back to him and sighed, trying to keep the tremble from his voice.

"I'm sorry kid I am." He whispered but Sam said nothing.

--------------

Dean's eyes snapped open and he looked from side to side, disorientated before he realized where he was. He sat up and saw Sam still sleeping. He must have fallen asleep.

He looked up and saw that someone had changed Sam's IVs. Jeez he must be getting rusty, he didn't even wake up and Dean was a very light sleeper, he had been trained to be.

Yawning, and stretching his arms he glanced at his watch. 6 am. It was Saturday. He leant over and placed a hand gently on Sam's forehead and grimaced when he found it still burning hot.

His fever wasn't going down.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his head and thought about going to get some coffee but he didn't want to leave Sam's side. Not when he was this sick.

He looked worse. Dark circles had settled around his eyes and sweat shimmered on his flushed face but Dean could see shivers wracking the boy's body as he slept.

Why Sam? Why couldn't have been someone else, a bad person. Sam didn't deserve this.

"D..d..Dean." Sam stammered out brokenly and Dean was immediately at his side.

Something was wrong.

He saw Sam's foot and hand twitch and Sam's face contorted in pain.

"Sammy!"

Sam groaned and fisted his hands in the blankets. He clenched his teeth hard and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as Dean stood there, fear gripping him as his brother jerked and began to seize.

"SAM! Somebody help!" He yelled, pressing the call button repeatedly as doctors spilled into the room.

"Help him." He cried desperately as they surrounded the bed and he was pushed away.

Standing on the outside of the crowd he interlocked his fingers behind his head and watched as they worked on his brother, hardly able to keep the tears from building in his eyes.

"What's wrong with him?" He asked desperately. No one answered him but a nurse came up to him smiling sympathetically.

"Give the doctors room to work, wait outside and someone will come and tell you what's happening when we stabilize your brother." The nurse said kindly but Dean couldn't take his eyes from his brother's jerking body.

He nodded numbly and allowed himself to be led from the room, watching Sammy all the way until the door closed in his face and he was left alone.

------------------------

About twenty minutes later the door to Sam's room opened and Dean shot to his feet. Twenty minutes had felt like a lifetime as he sat there, thinking about all the things that could be wrong with his brother and hoping everything would be okay.

"Is he okay? What happened?" Dean asked quickly, worry evident in his voice and expression.

The doctor sighed and shifted his glasses further up his nose.

"Sam experienced a febrile seizure because his fever is increasing and the antibiotics aren't helping to lower it. We're going to start him on a new, stronger course of antibiotics and hope that they lower his fever and fight the infection."

Dean swallowed and nodded mutely.

"What happens if you can't get his fever down?" Dean asked almost not wanting to hear the answer in case that turned out to the reality he had to face.

The doctor paused before answering.

"If the fever continues to rise it will cause pressure on the brain which can lead to brain damage and organ failure but it's very unlikely that it will lead to that. We're working as hard as we can to fight this infection and we still have a lot of options. These new antibiotics should help." The doctor said offering a reassuring smile which Dean tried to return but he was sure it came out as more of a grimace.

"Can I see him?" Dean asked.

"Yes but we're going to take him for a CT scan soon just to check there is no damage from the seizure. Just to warn you there may be some slurring but if you notice anything else don't hesitate to call someone." The doctor said, gesturing towards the door and allowing Dean to walk through.

"Thanks." He said and the doctor nodded.

The doctor disappeared around the corner and Dean sighed tiredly. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He couldn't get the image of Sam twitching and jerking out of his head.

He slowly opened the door and entered the room.

Sam was sleeping. He looked even smaller against the hospital blankets, he didn't look his 14 years.

Dean took his place back at Sam's bedside and stared at his sleeping brother.

"Jesus Sammy…"He whispered whilst Sam slept on, oblivious.

Dean picked at a rip in the knee of his jeans and absently pulled at the frayed strands shooting from the sides of the hole.

"You can't keep scaring me like this kiddo…" He said softly.

He found himself brushing Sam's overly long bangs away from his eyes, something he rarely did, not since Sammy was little.

Winchester genes and masculine pride prevented it from saying often but he loved his brother. He had sworn he would protect him but here he was, sitting here completely helpless whilst Sam just got sicker.

He may be 18 and he may have had to practically raise his brother but that didn't mean he could do this by himself. He needed someone, he needed his Dad. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do.

Sam shifted slightly in his sleep and a flash of pain flitted across his sleeping face before it sank back into impassiveness.

Dean wasn't going to leave his brother's side. He was going to watch over him, keep him safe and they were going to get through this. The alternative wasn't worth thinking about.

A/N** So what did you think? Sorry if it was a bit short. Drama coming up and Daddy Issues! Yay**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Sorry for the long wait, I am a bad bad author. I just got a little swamped I guess. Anyway, thanks for the amazing reviews from the last chapter, appreciate all of them! Tell me what you think about this one. **

Dean leafed through the pages of a magazine that was months out of date, not seeing the words in front of him as he methodically turned the pages, giving the semblance of actually reading the glossy pages in front of him.

He was waiting for them to bring his little brother back. They'd taken Sam to have a CT scan. It had taken the remnants of his shattered strength not to run after them as they took his limp little brother away from him.

He just wanted this all to be over, for Sam not to be sick, not to be in danger of brain damage and organ failure, for him not to have this all resting on his shoulders, the guilt, the responsibility.

He'd been somewhat comforted by the fact Sam had woken up briefly, only muttering his name and saying his head hurt which had increased the raging guilt and the churning in his stomach. He had quickly fallen back into a fevered sleep and Dean had been left alone with his thoughts again.

He'd tried his Dad's phone again but this time he hadn't even got voicemail. He was worried something had happened to his dad but his worry for his brother surpassed the worry for his father. Dad could take care of himself if he was in trouble, Sam was helpless. This wasn't something he could take out with some rock-salt and a salt and burn and that was what scared him the most.

Dean looked up as he heard footsteps and jumped up from his chair, dropping the magazine to the table as he saw his brother's doctors and him being wheeled back into his room. He rushed over, getting a glimpse of his brother.

He looked terrible. Worse than before. He was pale and lying unnaturally still and his pale face was shrouded by an oxygen mask.

"What's wrong with him? What happened?" Dean asked immediately, taking his brother's hand and looking back up at the doctor.

The doctor sighed and walked over to Dean who was looking from his brother to the doctor.

"He was awake and talking to me when he left. What happened? Why does he need this?" He asked gesturing to the oxygen mask with trembling hands.

"Sam had another seizure." He said bluntly and the words hit Dean like a heavy blow to the stomach. The air seemed to disappear from his lungs. He looked back at his brother and felt his throat grow tight.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Sam wasn't supposed to be sick, having seizures. The image of his brother jerking and flailing flashed back at him unpleasantly.

"The infection is causing pressure on his brain. His fever has gone up again to a dangerous level, it's vital that we get his fever down if we want to relieve the pressure from his brain. We've upped the seizure preventing medication." The doctor said as Dean squeezed his brother's hand. He blinked moisture from his eyes as he studied his pale face, pain lines across his features.

"We're doing everything we can but honestly, if we don't get this fever down then there's a good chance Sam's organs will start shutting down and that Sam wont get over this. But this is the worst-case scenario and we're doing everything to make sure this doesn't happen. If the pressure on his brain becomes too great we will have to perform an operation to relieve the pressure." The doctor continued gravely.

Dean swallowed hard, a painful lump settling in his throat and he blanched as the doctor mentioned surgery.

"Wait, you're talking brain surgery here?" Dean questioned incredulously standing up, hoping he had misheard.

"If we can't fight this infection and get the temperature down Sam could be brain-damaged or he could die. It's serious. We would have to drill a small hole into Sam's skull and insert a shunt to relieve the pressure from the fluid building."

Dean struggled to draw a breath, the whole room seemed to be spinning as he desperately tried to focus on the doctor and breathe.

Sammy…surgery…death

Fuck

He felt the room tilt and strong hands grabbed him. He was vaguely aware that he had been sat in a chair and that his head had been forced between his legs. Someone was telling him to breathe.

As the spinning slowed, air began to reach him again and his breathing slowed and his vision cleared.

"You okay now son?" The doctor asked softly and Dean nodded, breathing heavily.

"Sorry." He mumbled.

"I know this is a lot for you to deal with Dean and without trying to sound patronizing, you're young. You shouldn't be dealing with his by yourself. Your brother is extremely sick and you shouldn't be alone with this. Have you been able to contact your father?" Dr Murphy asked, surveying Dean as he slowly sat up straight.

"No…not yet. He's not picking up his phone." Dean said, tendrils of desperation beginning to creep into his voice. His front was slipping.

"Okay well keep trying. We'll be increasing Sam's medication and putting some cold packs on him to try and get this temperature down. There's a monitor monitoring his brain function and if the pressure gets too high we will have to operate." He finished gravely and Dean nodded, feeling extremely nauseous at the thought of someone drilling into his brother's skull.

This was seriously fucked up, he thought to himself desperately.

"Thanks." He muttered to the doctor, forcing something that barely passed as a smile.

He turned back to Sam and sighed shakily, the lump growing more painful as he blinked the fog from his eyes, swiping at them quickly.

"C'mon Sammy. Don't do this, don't leave me alone. You can fight this, you're a Winchester. You can't let some bacteria take you down." He whispered, unable to keep the tremble from his voice.

Sam didn't move or stir and Dean felt heat building in his eyes and his vision blurred.

"Sam just talk to me…Don't do this Sam. You have to be okay…I'll kick your ass if you're not." He said, tears rolling silently down his cheeks as he watched his brother through shining eyes.

But Dean was left with silence as his brother slept fitfully on, sweat beading on his forehead and his bangs curly with the moisture.

Dean swallowed hard and let the tears continue to roll.

------------------

Sam had begun to moan in his sleep once the nurses had placed cold packs under his arms and under his neck and Dean didn't think he could take this anymore. Sam was suffering, dying and he couldn't do anything but sit there.

He'd left the room whilst the nurses took some blood and changed Sam's IVs and now he had found himself out in the hallway once more. He sighed wearily and cradled his head in his hands. He was so tired. He couldn't sleep though, he couldn't leave Sam in case something happened.

Where the fuck was Dad? Why wouldn't he call?

Dean felt a rush of anger and clenched his fists.

"_Where is Dad?"_

Sam's weak, broken voice echoed through his head and he gripped the arms of the chair hard. This wasn't fair. He'd told them to call if anything happened, now something had and he wouldn't pick up the phone.

For once in his life Dean began to feel bitter resentment towards the life they led. He'd never had any problem with hunting, he loved doing it but seeing what it was doing to their family, to Sammy he felt a rush of hatred towards it. A normal Dad would be here, comforting his sons, making everything better.

Dean got up out of the chair and strode over to the payphone. He slammed quarters into the slot with shaking hands and quickly dialed the number.

"_This is John Winchester, leave a message and I'll get back to you."_

Dean gripped the phone hard, knuckles turning white.

"Dad for fuck sake pick up your god-damned phone!" He yelled angrily, voice raw and harsh. He paused, breathing raggedly and rested his forehead against the cool metal of the phone box. The anger melted away and was immediately replaced by the sickening feeling of desperation.

"Dad please…I need you. Something's happened and…Sam he's…he's really sick Dad. The doctor's don't know what to do and…I'm really scared we're gonna lose him." Dean said brokenly.

"I can't do this by myself. Just please pick up the fucking phone…Damn it." He cried brokenly before slamming the phone back down and sinking down to the floor.

Sam was all he had. He couldn't lose him.

---------------------

John Winchester wearily turned the key into the grotty motel room and shuffled inside. His head was pounding and his limbs felt like lead.

God that hunt had been a nightmare. Maybe he had really made a mistake making Dean stay behind; he could have really used his help.

He sighed and slumped down onto the bed, flicking on the TV. Then he noticed his phone sitting on the nightstand.

He swore under his breath. He always took his phone with him on hunts, for safety if nothing else. God he was getting sloppy. He picked up the cell and glanced at the display and his eyes widened.

17 missed calls.

2 new messages.

Panic immediately gripped at his heart and he scrambled to press the right buttons. He didn't recognize the number at all. Fingers fumbling, he held the phone to his ear and played the messages.

"Dad, it's me Dean…I uh…I know you're on a hunt but I really need you to come home. It's Sam he's…he's sick and he's in the hospital and they don't know what is wrong. Please come."

John swallowed hard feeling sick. Sam was in the hospital, he was that sick that he was in the hospital and John had just brushed him aside and Dean was actually pleading with him, begging him to come.

"Dad for fuck sake pick up your god-damned phone!"

John was startled by the anger in his son's voice and immediately felt a feeling of dread wash over him. Something was seriously wrong.

"Dad please…I need you. Something's happened and…Sam he's…he's really sick Dad. The doctor's don't know what to do and…I'm really scared we're gonna lose him."

The anger in Dean's voice had been replaced by broken desperation and John felt a lump settle in his throat. There was something seriously wrong with his baby boy and Dean was left alone to deal with it.

"I can't do this by myself. Just please pick up the fucking phone…Damn it."

After Dean's curse there was the sound of fumbling before the dial tone resounded in his ears, echoing like an ongoing taunt, reminding him of his failure as a father. Blinking quickly he tucked the phone into his pocket and grabbed his stuff, shoving it into the bag.

His sons needed him, he knew if he lost Sammy he would lose Dean too.

They were all he had left.

-----------------

From the recesses of his jumbled and aching head Sam was dimly aware of a steady beeping and it was really starting to piss him off.

His head was pounding worse than before and it felt like someone had put his skull in a vice which was gradually tightening. His neck was throbbing and his back was also fighting for his attention. On top of that he was absolutely freezing.

It felt like he was dying.

He felt a sudden rush of fear and struggled to swallow but as he did fire lanced through his raw throat and he winced.

Why couldn't he open his eyes? They felt one hundred ton weights.

He was cold, tired, hurting and scared and he didn't want to feel like this or be here anymore. He wanted to just curl up and cry. He wanted Dean.

He fought to open his eyes and felt them crack open slightly but as they finally opened blinding light shot through and his head seared in agony and he groaned.

"Sam? Sammy?"

He heard a familiar voice calling his name urgently.

Dean.

Trying to ignore the fire in his throat he finally managed to rasp out.

"Lights…h…hurts." He croaked, barely above a whisper.

Immediately understanding, Dean scrambled out of his chair and rushed over to the wall, flipping off the lights. He felt a smile cross his face as he saw his brother relax slightly and finally manage to open his eyes.

This had to be a good sign right?

Sam's eyes were glazed with fever and he could see chills wracking his body but he was awake.

"Sammy…Christ. How are you feeling?" He asked softly, stroking his brother's hair softly.

Sam's eyes were drooping slightly but he managed to force them open and he looked weakly up at Dean. He looked a wreck.

"Bad." Was all he managed to say.

He shivered violently and pain lanced through his back and head.

"I'm not surprised kiddo. Sam…you're really sick." Dean said softly, looking sadly down at his brother.

Even through his fever-muddled mind Sam knew he had never seen his brother look like that. This was bad. Maybe he was dying.

He wanted to sleep so bad, to escape from the unbearable throbbing in his head and the nausea once again churning in his stomach and now the itching that seemed to be spreading across his arms.

"Am I go…gonna die?" Sam asked weakly, tears welling in his eyes as he looked desperately up at his brother for answers, wanting him to make this all go away, make it all better.

Dean struggled to keep a hold of his emotions as his brother looked desperately up at him through swimming eyes and he swallowed hard, blinking quickly.

"No. You're not Sam. If you do you know I will resurrect your ass and kill you again for even trying it." Dean said and he thought he saw the ghost of a smile flit across his brother's pale, sweaty face.

Sam weakly scratched at his arm, barely able to force his arm to move.

Silence descended upon the room again as Dean watched his brother's every move. He could see the pain he was in and it was breaking him.

"Why do you keep scratching?" Dean asked as his brother weakly scratched at his arm again.

Sam didn't seem to have the energy to reply so Dean leant over and pulled the sleeves of the gown further up.

Dean felt his mouth go try and he stared at the small patch of purple bruises on his brother's arm. It felt like the whole world was crashing down around him.

He quickly pressed the call button and Sam stared at him, eyelids at half-mast.

"It's okay Sam." He soothed. Sam's eyelids drooped again before he forced them slowly back open.

"'m scared." He whispered and a single tear rolled down his fever-flushed cheek. Dean brushed it from his cheek softly.

"It'll be okay Sammy." He replied as the doctor entered the room.

"What's wrong?" He asked walking over and checking Sam's monitors and his chart. Dean noticed that Sam had fallen asleep again and turned to the doctor.

"He's got a rash." He said and he couldn't miss the look of worry that crossed the doctor's face.

-----------------------

John Winchester slammed down on the brakes and skidded noisily into the parking lot of the hospital. He jumped out of the car, slamming the doors and rushed through the automatic doors to the hospital.

He skidded to a halt at the receptionist's desk and she looked up startled at the man's frenzied entrance.

"My son…Sam Winchester, he was brought in earlier. What room is he in?" He asked breathing heavily.

The receptionist glanced at her computer screen as John waited impatiently, each second feeling like a lifetime.

"Sam Winchester…He's in room 6 in the ICU." She said and John immediately felt sick. The ICU. Sam was sick enough to be in the ICU.

"It's on the third floor."

Leaving with a hurried thanks John rushed over to the elevator and jumped in.

-------------------

Dean closed his eyes and desperately tried to hold everything together as he sat outside his brother's room.

_Septicemia, blood poisoning, organ failure, 50 chance, death_

Dean felt like he was going to be sick. His stomach was churning violently. His brother's life depended on the flip of a coin, the same odds. Heads he lives, Tails he dies.

He heard the elevator doors from down the hall and the soft talking of nurses from the nurse's station but in his head all he could hear was the doctor's words, echoing around and around his head.

"Dean?"

He immediately looked up and stopped still.

"Dad?"


	6. Chapter 6

Dean stared as his father stood there and for once in his life he didn't have anything to say, he got unsteadily to his feet and surveyed the man in front of him. Father and son stood for a few seconds, staring at each other before John strode forwards and took Dean by surprise by pulling him into a tight embrace.

Dean stood there, arms pinned to his sides as his father hugged him tightly but he felt no desire to return the embrace. Instead of feeling the intense wave of relief he expected to feel when his father finally arrived he felt something different. His muscles were tense and his jaw was working and as his stomach lurched he realized what it was.

Anger.

He lifted his arms and pushed him away from him more forcefully than he had meant and John stared at him as Dean glared furiously at his disheveled father.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He suddenly exploded causing John to flinch at the rage in his son's voice.

"Dean…"John began uncertainly but he was cut off.

"I've been trying to call you for the last two days and you haven't even picked up your phone or tried to call us. Nothing." Dean said knowing that now he had started the floodgates had been opened and he wasn't going to stop, no matter how long his Dad stood there with his mouth open looking like a fish out of water.

"What the fuck Dad? You always tell us to call you if there's an emergency and I'd class this as a fucking emergency." He yelled, voice hoarse as he felt his face flushing red with anger. Anger not just at his Dad but at the whole situation, Sammy, the hospital, everything was being directed at his father because he was there and he deserved it.

John swallowed hard and forced himself to look into his son's eyes but he did not find them full of the anger that he had been met with but instead there was a look that he never wanted to see there ever again- desolation but above all disappointment. John's relationship with Sam had always been rocky, Sam always questioning everything but Dean, Dean had always had blind faith in his father and never questioned him but now…now that faith was gone and that hurt more than any of Dean's words could.

"Dean I…I'm sorry…I left my cell at the motel and…"He tried to explain but he knew it would fall flat. It was his fault and nothing he said could change that.

Dean stared at his father his fists clenching at his sides. He couldn't believe it, that was his excuse? He'd been thinking his Dad had been hurt or in trouble or he'd at least have a better excuse than that…this couldn't be his father, his father wasn't that careless. He was never careless.

"You what? Jesus Christ Dad how many times have you ripped me and Sammy a new one for doing that or lectured us on how important it is?" Dean said lowering his voice as he realised that the nurses were starting to stare.

John had nothing to say to that. That's exactly what he'd been thinking the whole drive over here.

"Dean I'm sorry." He said softly.

Dean sighed and looked away.

"Yeah so am I Dad, sorry that Sammy kept asking where you were, getting hopeful everytime I walked in that you'd be there then me having to tell him that I couldn't get in touch with you." Dean said. The few times when Sam was conscious he had seen the way his eyes lit up everytime the door opened hoping it would be Dad and it had been hard to watch.

John swallowed with difficulty, his chest feeling tight, the sickening feeling of guilt eating away at him.

"How is he?" He asked quickly, his worry for his youngest son returning full measure.

At the question all of Dean's anger seemed to deflate and he sighed shakily, now that he wasn't yelling everything returned back to him, what the doctor had said.

"Bad…really bad Dad." The anger was gone from Dean's voice and it had been replaced with a sad, defeated tone that didn't suit him.

"What's wrong with him?" John asked his voice low and unable to hide the fear that laced it heavily. Dean looked away finding himself unable to meet his father's desperate gaze. He didn't want to say it. Saying it would make it a reality he had to face rather than pretending it was some sort of twisted nightmare that he would be able to wake up from and everything would be back to how it should be.

"He's got meningitis, they can't get his fever down and there's pressure on his brain and he…he had a seizure and I saw it and…Dad I can't deal with this it's too hard. Why Sam? Now they're saying…"He trailed off his voice wavering slightly as John listened in horror, his insides had turned to ice and his heart was pounding so hard he swore it would burst from his ribs.

"What Dean?" John asked breathlessly. He could barely talk all this information in. His son, his baby was sick, really sick and he hadn't even been here.

"They said he's got septicemia, blood poisoning and with that there's a fifty percent chance of him making it."

John couldn't look into his son's teary gaze anymore, the look of hope in his eyes, willing John to make everything better was more than he could stand.

He felt his legs buckle beneath him and he managed to lower himself onto a chair as he placed his head in trembling hands. This was more than he could handle. His son, his Sammy could die, he could lose him to something so small as a bacteria when they put themselves in danger from things most people couldn't even imagine but yet here he was, facing the possibility of losing his son.

Dean watched as his father grappled with the bombshell he had just dropped, he didn't know how to react. He was torn between feeling sorry for the guy and still wanting to punch him.

"I'm sorry." John whispered sadly, his voice hoarse and scratchy. Dean swallowed, he didn't think he'd ever heard his father sound so beaten down.

"It's not me you need to apologise to." Dean said softly.

Their conversation was interrupted by the door to Sam's room opening and Sam's doctor stepping out. Dean immediately got to his feet and John followed suit, quickly composing himself.

"Hello Dean and…I take it you are Sam's father?" The doctor asked as he surveyed John's rather frantic appearance.

"Yes, John Winchester." He said, holding out his hands. He was all business again, no time for showing weakness.

"I've started Sam on a vigorous round of antibiotics which will hopefully fight the blood poisoning. He'll be monitored carefully and the next few hours are crucial. We've started several IVs to increase his fluids and we're monitoring his kidney function as decreased urine output is the first sign of kidney failure which we need to watch out for. But don't worry, I'm confident that these antibiotics will work." The doctor said trying to reassure the two men before him as they balked at the mention of kidney failure.

"Can we see him?" Dean asked.

"Of course. I'll be back to check on Sam on my rounds later." He said leaving with a smile as Dean and John thanked him.

Dean walked straight into the room without looking back at John leaving him to follow after him, trying to mentally prepare himself but as he opened the door he felt like he had been punched in the stomach.

Sam was paper-white and sweat clung to his bangs, plastering them to his shining forehead as he slept. An oxygen mask shrouded his face, his breathing was slightly erratic. He looked so small, his young body lost in the large bed and the tangles of IVs and wires attached to his lanky frame.

"Oh god." John whispered, his broken voice barely audible above the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the gentle hiss of the oxygen tank.

He walked over and sat in the chair by the bedside as Dean stood back, allowing his father the moment he needed.

John took Sam's smaller hand in his and squeezed it gently, feeling heat in his eyes.

"Oh Sammy." He said softly, stroking his thumb gently over the back of Sam's hand. John had never been an affectionate, touchy-feely parent even though Sam was the kind of kid who wanted that but now he didn't care. He needed Sam to know he was here, late but there all the same.

Sam shifted slightly in the bed, forehead creased in a frown as he let out a small moan. His eyelids fluttered before blinking blearily and finally opening, resting at half mast and frowning against the light that was causing his head to pound.

His neck was stiff and every movement caused it to ache dully, his back still hurt and his head felt like it was about to explode. His whole body felt like lead and he could barely find the strength to keep his eyes open. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

But even through the pain-induced haze he could tell the figure by his side wasn't Dean.

"Dad?" He rasped out, his aching throat protesting and his voice was muffled by the oxygen mask.

John looked up at his son and smiled as he saw Sam's eyes open, his small hand squeezing weakly at his.

"Sammy." He said sitting up straight.

Sam weakly tried to lift the oxygen mask from his face but his limbs didn't seem to want to co-operate properly, frustrated he sighed shakily, breath hitching in his throat at his head continued to throb.

"Leave it on Sammy, you need it." John said softly, moving Sam's arm away and soothing him as he continued to breathe rapidly, breaths shallow and quick.

"Is that normal?" John asked, only now aware that there was a nurse in the room checking Sam's monitors; he had been focused on Sam the whole time.

"It's an effect of the septicemia; the mask should be helping with that. Try to calm him down." She replied adjusting an IV. John nodded aware of Dean tense behind him, he was obviously worried about his brother. Ever since John had placed Sam in Dean's arms all those years ago he knew Dean had taken it upon himself to look after Sam more than was expected of him. He practically raised the kid.

"I didn't think…you were coming." Sam rasped weakly, voice barely audible. John swallowed hard. The words weren't meant accusingly but they caused his stomach to churn with guilt. He struggled to compose himself as Sammy watched him sleepily, struggling to stay awake.

"I'm here now okay buddy?" John said as Sam frowned again, pain written across his pale, drawn features.

"Where's…Dean?" Sam said between breaths and John couldn't help but feel the tiniest stab of jealousy. Sam had always wanted Dean, when he fell over and scraped his knees when he was little, had bad dreams he always called for Dean. Sure John had bought it on himself by never being there and leaving Dean to be something of a surrogate father to his youngest but still, it felt good to be needed.

"I'm over here Sammy." Dean said, stepping forward and managing a strained smile.

"Tired" He rasped again his voice nearly completely gone and each word was like fire.

"Sleep Sam." Dean said softly, brushing his bangs away from his face. Sam blinked blearily and his eyelids slid shut.

"Thanks Dad." He mumbled. John frowned.

"For what?" He asked. Sam's ham growing lax in his.

"Coming." He said softly. His breathing began to even and soon he was asleep again and John swallowed with difficulty, his mouth suddenly felt dry and his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth as he stared at Sam, sweat still lacing his brow and a frown of pain on his face even in his sleep.

He blinked quickly and looked away.

"I uh…need some fresh air." He mumbled quickly, stumbling to his feet and leaving the room in a hurry leaving Dean alone with only the beeping machines for company.

--------------------

John strode out of the automatic doors out of the hospital and let out a long shaking breath as the cool night air hit him in the face with a blast. He paced along the sidewalk restlessly running shaking hands through his hair.

"Damn it." He whispered shakily as he struggled to hold everything together. He looked up at the starry night sky and burning tears blurred his vision.

"DAMN IT" He yelled kicking the wall forcefully. His angry tones echoed across the parking lot.

He collapsed bonelessly onto the bench that sat by the wall and cradled his head in his hands. This was so fucked up. He felt hot tears sliding down his face and he swiped at them angrily. He was a failure of a father. He had left his child alone knowing he was sick, he'd laid the responsibility of caring for Sam on Dean who was still a child himself.

When had it all changed? When he stopped being a caring, responsible father? When had he started passing on his fatherly duties to his son?

He knew when. As soon as Mary died.

What had he done? What had he let happen to Mary's sons? Sam could die. Sam the only innocent thing left in their lives, he had already tainted Dean but Sam…Sam represented everything they were fighting for, the last piece of Mary he had left and he had fucked things up and now he could lose him.

He'd put hunting ahead of his children and now he was paying the price for it. He wasn't going to be that man anymore, he couldn't afford to be. Sammy needed him, Dean needed him and he couldn't let them down.

_A/N__** I know not a lot happened and you may have found it boring but John needed some attention lol Don't worry it will be back to the Dean and Sammy angst soon and the drama. Tell me what you think!**_


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